


Reporter

by bitterfish



Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Clone Trooper, No Beta We Die Like Clones, Sorry Not Sorry, nothing but oc, oc clone trooper - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-18
Updated: 2021-01-23
Packaged: 2021-03-16 23:14:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28839120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bitterfish/pseuds/bitterfish
Summary: Dumping grounds for my OC Clone Trooper Reporter.
Kudos: 6





	1. Reporter makes a friend?

As the LAAT ship landed, dust kicked up. Whipping tarps tied to the bare ground. Clone Troopers disembarked to their destinations leaving one very bewilder journalist to slowly grab his things and step off the ship. This was Jhoenny’s first off world assignment and he was lost. The intro packet his predecessor left was mostly a list of things and people to void. With no information as to who the 104th Battalions current PR representative was. Or any of the basic maps and chain of Command list Jhoenny was expecting.  
As he searched of any markings or signs, he caught a clone tossing a helmet to its owner out of the corner of his eye. The Clone who tossed it waved friendly at him. The Clone looked exhausted. Dark bags under his eyes where only slightly lightened by the Clones exaggerated smile. He had a standard 3-1 fade and a goatee, both fairly common as far as Jhoenny could tell. His armor was covered in mud, making it hard to see any markings. The Clone tucked an ammo crate under his arm. Jhoenny quickly turned to the clone.

“Hello! I’m Jhoenny of the Daily Scwalk. I’m supposed to find the 104th PR rep?” He held out a hand which the Clone briefly shook before giving a Jhoenny a quick look over. Jhoenny tried not to flinch as the smile turned predatory of a moment. But it passed so quickly Jhoenny thought he must have been seeing things.

“Tato is at the med tent! I can give you a tour if you want?” The Clone waved a hand towards a large white tent across the field.

“Tato? Like the fruit?” Jhoenny had heard Clones could have unusual names, but a fruit?

“Yeah, he loves them! Ate himself sick. First time the poor guy had solid food.” The cloned nodded enthusiastically as he turned towards the tent.

Jhoenny’s eyebrows shot up as he started towards the tent. The Clones pace just fast enough to make Jhoenny have to trot to keep up.

“Yeah, hard to switch after the nutrient air and occasional gel packs. Here’s the med tent!”

Jhoenny took two steps into the tent. Charred meat, blood, and bile reached his noise. Jhoenny gaged and stumbled out of the tent. He stumbled to the side, trying to stay out of the way of the medics suddenly running to the tent. The Clone didn’t seem to notice Jhoenny’s distress. 

“Hey you’re right Jhoenny, Tato isn’t here! Must have gotten released. Did you want to talk to a medic while we’re here? I think Graft will be on his lunch break soon.”  
Jhoenny remembered his intro packet. Rule 4 do NOT interview the medic, unless you wanted to be reacquainted with your last meal. Jhoenny shook his head violently. 

“I think I’ll let Medic Graft eat his meal in peace. If Tato isn’t here, where do you think he is?”

The clone stroked his goatie and Jhoenny had the sudden strange urge to run. The hair stood up on the back of Jhoenny's neck. He took a quick look around the tent and only saw Clones.

“He may be getting his face paint redone. It takes a lot of work to cover the blue.”

“Cover the blue?” Jhoenny ignored the sinking feeling in his stomach.

The clone nodded seriously before continuing.

“GAR requires use to cover our skin when dealing with civvies. Said blue freaks people out. I just think that’s racist towards Pantorans.”

“You want me to believe you aren’t tan?” Johnny was beginning to regret getting off the LAAT.

“Yep!”

Johnny stared at the Clone. He could barely make out what he thought was a wolf on one pauldron. Common enough for the 104th. He thought he saw something with two mismatched eyes on his chest plate. Everything else was fairly nondescript. No tattoos, no scars, no piercings. Something was beginning to feel like a red flag to Johnny though.  
“What’s your name?” Jhoenny decided that changing the subject was best.

“CT 6699, sir!” CT 6699’s grin was positively feral. Johnny was about to ask where they were going, when another clone shouted from across the landing zone.  
“REPORTER! LEAVE THE POOR JOURNALIST ALONE. YOU’RE NOT PR AUTHORIZED.”

As the new clone shouted he launched a helmet at CT 6699’s head. CT 6699 caught it laughing and shoved the ammo box he had been carrying into Jhoenny’s hands.  
“Welcome to the GAR Jhoenny, here’s your welcome kit!” 

CT 6699 threw his bucket on and ran off before the new Clone could get to him. Jhoenny froze in shock at his helmet. The upper left crown was covered in polka dots, fangs hung from the bottom around the respirator. His intro packet flashed into memory. The Do NOT Interview list; Clone called Reporter: His helmet is spotted on the top half, and fangs near the breathing filters. Pathological liar.

That had been added by his predecessor, a seasoned veteran of reporting who quit just 3 weeks into covering the war. Jhoenny was beginning to see why he was the 5th reporter the Daily Scwalk sent to 104th battalion.

The new Clone wince apologetically. And moved Jhoenny towards a more populated area of the camp.

“Sorry sir. Reporter is an acquired taste. I’m the 104th PR Rep-“

“Oh, YOU’RE Tato!”

“Tato, sir?” The new clone stared at Jhoenny in confusion. Only for a moment. Then a tired air of resignation surrounded the PR Rep.

“Yes, CT 6699 said you’re called Tato-”Jhoenny stopped, closed his eyes and sighed.

“You’re not called Tato, are you?”

“No sir”

“And you all don’t live off nutrient air and gel packs.”

“Not the air, sir. The packs unfortunately are real”

“And you’re not blue?”

“I-I feel fine, sir.”

Jhoenny sighed and shuffled the ammo box into his things.

“I’m Trip sir, the 104th PR Rep. Would you like me to show you to your tent, sir?” Trip shifted, pointing Jhoenny to a row of tents with a few civilians sitting around with an assortment of camera and other reporting equipment.

“I would greatly appreciated that Trip.” Jhoenny trudged after Trip. Embrassed at the wild goose chase, Reporter had given him. Jhoenny wondered briefly how he had earned that name, before deciding he never wanted to know.

Trip pointed out his tent and introduced Jhoenny to a few of the reporters around. A Dug Journilist laughed at Jhoenny as he noticed the Ammo box. 

“I see you have already met the welcome committee human. Did Reporter manage to lure you to the latrine?” The Dug snarled as he laughed.

“Do not listen to our grumpy college, Treepap is a most unfortunate example of his kind. Reporter intercepts all new Journalist. What passes for a hobby on the front lines I suppose.” A Rodian Journalist shot a glare at the smirking Dug. Who responded by sticking his tongue out. Jhonney laughed weekly at the exchange.

“I believe I’ll start unpacking. Ah, pleasure to meet you.” Jhoenny gave a shallow bow as the Dug threw a wrapper at the Rodian, cackling. Jhoenny started to wonder if strategic retreat was going to be a common strategy here.

After settling into his temporary home, Jhoenny gingerly opened the welcome kit. Inside where two air canisters claiming to be GAR issue enriched air, complete with nutrition label. Two red gel packs, which claimed they were Pantoran cherry flavored. And a pair of new socks.

He opened the gel pack and tired it. He gagged at the artificial cherry flavor.

Well at least he shouldn’t be bored.


	2. Reporters rough ref sheet

Name: Reporter Number: CT-6699 Hair: dark brown Eyes: brown Tattoos: none Scars: none visible Roll: Sniper

[](https://www.flickr.com/photos/182035970@N08/50849557048/)


	3. breath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reporter can't sleep. Target practice is rest right?
> 
> Trigger Warning for breif mentions of blood and vague battle field sights, sounds, and smells.

Reporter woke up gasping. Terror clawing behind his eyes, screams filling his ears before he recognized his surroundings. He took a minute, trying to remember the breathing exercises his first medic taught him. He could vaguely remember the shiny medic pulling him under wreckage in the middle of Geonosis. In, 2, 3, 4, hold. Out, 2, 3, 4, hold. In, 2, 3, 4, hold. 

One of his current group let out a loud snore and roll over. The barracks bunk groaning and squeaking under the weight. Right, not sleeping then. Reporter quickly strapped his armor over the blacks he had been sleeping in. He hesitated before retrieving his DC-15x and slinging it over his shoulder by the strap. It was late(early?) enough only a few brothers were up. A few gave Reporter a nod or a wave if they noticed him. Most didn’t. Reporter didn’t expect them too.  
A few minutes and he was outside. Predawn light further defused in the hazy air of the planet. The air here was heavy, suffocating before the sun burned some of the moisture off. Reporter paused. In, 2, 3, 4, hold. Out, 2, 3, 4, hold.

Reporter stalked quietly as moved through base camp. If he made it past the med tent, he could sneak out to the range one of the Wolf pack set up. No one should be using it this early. And if they were he’d take one of their KP shifts for the privilege of using the range.   
He made it past the tent and relaxed a little. Strolling past several brothers quietly reorganizing med packs for the day. They hadn’t had much action recently, hopefully it’d stay that way for a little longer.

Reporter speed up a little as he saw the range empty. The empty field was covered in targets made from anything they could grab that was vaguely target shaped. A few empty crates acted as seating. When he reached it he placed an offering on one of the crates, a green gel pack from the recent ‘moral’ crate. Had to pay the Wolfpack for using their toys after all. 

He checked all the targets, adjusting a few that had been knock off track. Then he returned to the front of the range and settled into a siting stance. The morning birds called out around him as he settled back into a comfortable breathing pattern. In, 2, 3, 4, release, fire. A metal target vibrated under the shot. Reported looked down his scope. Too far to the right. He adjusted for the drift and shot again. He looked down the scope again. Better. He lost track of time as the sun slowly rose over their current home base.  
After a while he heard the warning ping of a low blaster charge. He check the pack and saw it was almost empty. He registered the shift of feet behind him to the left as he pulled himself back to reality. He looked up to see one of the Wolfpack watching him.

Reporter shot to his feet.

“I’m sorry, Sir. I’ll clear the range-” Reporter was stopped by a hand in the yield sign.

“At ease. No one else using it this early. Is that a DC-15x?” The Wolfpack member held his hand out in request. Reporter checked that the safety was on before hesitantly handing it over.

“Yes, sir. ” Reporter watched as the other tested it’s weight and looked it over. Reporter couldn’t help but feel chastised, even though the other hadn’t said anything to make him feel that way.

“It’s too early for sir’s, I’m not on duty yet. You’re one of the ones that shuffled over after the Malevolence aren’t you?” It was phrased as a question, but the Wolfpack member was carefully avoiding Reporters eyes. Keeping focused on the riffle. He already knew the answer.

Reporter hesitated for a moment.

“Yeah. Lost my unit at Geonosis. Took a bad hit, needed a bacta tank and PT.” The answer came out mechanically. Reporter carefully didn’t think of the red medic badge, blocking his vision as a LAAT came crashing on down them. Didn’t think of the smell of burning insectoid bodies. The screams of his fallen brothers. The cracked Helmet, leaking blood and staring down at him

He started as a hand gently squeezed his shoulder. The Wolfpack member had a sympathetic look on his face. He withdrew his hand and returned the riffle.  
“I’m sorry it took this long for us to meet. Use the range as long as you need. We’re practicing maneuvers this morning.” The Wolfpack member grabbed the green gel pack as he talked. He gave a lazy waved and was gone. 

Reporter stood frozen for a moment. In, 2, 3, 4, hold. Out, 2, 3, 4, hold. Laugher filled his head as he remembered a shiny medic, teasing him for trip during the sim. Holding his hands as he had his first panic attack before a big exam. Covering his body from blaster fire and a falling LAAT. 

Breath brother. In, 2, 3, 4, hold. Out, 2, 3, 4, hold.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank ya'll for reading! Reporter was created by a clone wars discord during a discussion on how war reporters would work in the GAR, and I adopted him. I normally draw, but setting up a comic was a bit more work then I wanted to do today. I may add to this. Second chapter is my rough char sheet of him and some info.


End file.
